


Being me can only mean feeling scared to breathe

by Someonewhosfunny



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Canonical Character Death, Coping, Crying, Gen, Other, Panic Attacks, Riko is dead, Vomiting, Wakes & Funerals, obviously Exy, post tkm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-06-01 05:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15136289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Someonewhosfunny/pseuds/Someonewhosfunny
Summary: The day after the Championship game, Kevin finds out Riko is dead. He takes the news just about as well as anyone could expect: with a panic attack and a side of vodka. The Foxes don't understand his complicated grieving and Kevin struggles to reconcile the loss of his childhood best friend and the end of years of torment from his biggest abuser. In his journey towards acceptance, Kevin finds solace in the two people he never had under Riko's control: a father and a girlfriend.





	1. The King Is Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Title credits goes to The Neighborhood. I think "Afraid" is such a Kevin song and this line in particular is perfect. 
> 
> I began this piece in April and I've decided to start posting what I've got rather than wait until it's all done. This is a series of interconnected scenes in the aftermath of Riko's death. I don't know how long it will go on for, maybe 5 chapters, but we'll see! Enjoy and let me know what you think in the comments!

Kevin hadn’t stopped smiling since the ceremony began. It wasn’t his first time lifting a championship trophy – he’d done it his first season at Edgar Allen, but this was different. The first time, the shiny medal in his grasp felt like birthright, another completed checkpoint on the way to the success he’d been destined for his entire life. He’d still been Kevin Day, son of Exy and striker for first ranked Edgar Allen, the US Court, and his professional team. The victory had been inevitable. This time, it was groundbreaking, not just for Class I, but for the entire sport of Exy. The formerly last ranked Palmetto State Foxes had won championships. A team other than the Ravens had won championships and they did it with the broken half of Edgar Allen’s most valuable duo. This win felt like redemption and a little bit of revenge. It was a huge fuck you in the face of anyone who’d doubted them – who doubted him – by saying he’d never return to the top. But here he was. He’d earned the right to be here and he’d never let anyone forget it. He’d never let anyone forget that when someone said “best player in the game” the next words out of their mouth would be “Kevin Fucking Day.”

Wymack was trying in vain to corral the Foxes onto the bus after the festivities had died out, but they were still milling around, exchanging hugs and celebratory words with their friends and family. Kevin had said his goodbye to Thea in the stadium. He would never forget how she pulled him into an embrace, forceful hands yanking him by the jersey. Kevin had been stunned, almost too stunned to move, but he recovered quickly, wrapping his arms around her and smiling against her hair. He could hear several of his teammates, notably Nicky, making a scene over it, but he didn’t care. He’d spent years hiding and, while he wasn’t out of the woods yet, he was ready to step into the light. 

“Congratulations,” Thea breathed when she pulled away. 

“I can’t beat your perfect 5 for 5, but I think I’ll come close,” Kevin smirked, gesturing around him. 

Thea laughed, a light sound he didn’t think he’d ever heard before, and shoved him in the shoulder. 

“I’d like to see you try,” she’d challenged. 

He was still smiling at the memory when Wymack grabbed his shoulder. 

“Get on the bus, will you?” 

Kevin rolled his eyes but follow the instruction anyway. As he climbed the stairs, he saw Abby and most of his teammates were already there. Neil and Andrew were stuffed into the last row, with Aaron in front of them. Allison and Matt were sitting towards the front and Nicky was behind them. When Kevin stepped into the aisle, Nicky threw something his way. He was lucky he had the reflexes to make that catch before the object smacked him in the face. When Kevin realized it was a mostly empty bottle of liquor, he shot Nicky a confused and mildly annoyed look. 

“We don’t have any mixers left from last night,” Nicky shrugged. “And you’re the only one here about to drink straight vodka from the bottle.”

Kevin rolled his eyes and kept walking down the aisle. Before he took his seat, he heard frantic footsteps running onto the bus. He turned around and saw Dan standing at the top of the stairs with wide eyes and Wymack right behind her. 

“Oh my god,” Dan squeaked. “Did anyone just see the news?” 

“What now?” Allison whined. “Can’t we have just one day of peace before-”

“No, this isn’t about us,” Dan dismissed quickly. She flicked a look at Kevin. “Riko’s dead.” 

Kevin dropped the bottle in his hands when the words left her mouth. He thought for a second he’d heard her incorrectly. Like she’d meant to say “Riko’s dead meat” or “Riko’s dead to me.” Not “Riko is dead.” Riko couldn’t be dead. Kevin had seen him yesterday. He’d seen him running and scoring and breathing. He’d seen him almost take Neil’s head off. 

He whipped around to look at Neil and the second he saw his face, he knew the news was true. Neil didn’t look the least bit surprised – or sorry. He’d known and he hadn’t told Kevin. 

“He’s what?” Matt asked in disbelief. 

“He killed himself,” Dan explained before hesitantly adding, “Yesterday. That’s what they’re saying.”

“No fucking way,” Aaron scoffed. 

“Ichiro did it,” Neil supplied evenly. “I saw it.” When no one replied, he shrugged. “Cutting loose ends.”

Those words got Kevin, who’d been frozen in place since turning around to look at Neil, into action. In three steps, he was down the aisle and on his way out of the bus. Dan and Wymack were both still too stunned to stop him. Behind him, he could hear someone complaining. 

“Oh good. Another Kevin Day panic attack.” 

The voice sounded like Andrew and the aghast sound that followed – likely Nicky – nearly confirmed his suspicious. Kevin didn’t stop to check. He looked ahead as he pushed through people, but he didn’t see anything. He felt a slender hand on his arm, but shrugged it off without slowing down. He would probably – maybe – apologize to Renee for it later, but right now, he couldn’t think straight. His feet were propelling him straight back into Castle Evermore. He needed to go in. He needed to see Riko. He wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. 

“Kevin!” 

He heard the voice distantly behind him but kept going. He made his way through the guarded doors easily due to the tattoo on his face and the name on the back of his jacket, before another person grabbed his shoulder. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

The person tugged him around to bring them face to face. It was Wymack, staring at him like he was trying to make sense of something far beyond his comprehension. 

“I-” Kevin didn’t know how to finish his sentence. Instead, he gestured vaguely towards the floor. “I just thought-”

“You are not going into the Nest,” Wymack dismissed, tightening his grip ever so slightly. “Come back outside with me. Let’s get on the bus and talk about this.”

“Coach, I-” he hesitated, pained, “I can’t. Please, don’t make me.”

Wymack took in his desperate expression and sighed, raking his hands through his wiry hair. 

“Stay here, kid. And don’t move. I swear to God…” 

He rung his hands in frustration and stalked back outside. Kevin felt his knees going weak and he slumped against the wall, sliding down until he reached the floor. He didn’t know how long he sat there waiting for Wymack to come back. He couldn’t track the time when every second felt like he was closer to dying. He thought maybe he had died, because that was the only explanation. Sometimes, when he’d been in the nest, he privately thought he might be the one to die. More than that, he thought it would be Jean. But not Riko. Never Riko. He could never die.  
 


	2. Welcome to the Black Parade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wymack takes Kevin to the funeral and he finds support in familiar arms.

Kevin’s hands were shaking in his pockets. His fingers itched to curl around the slender glass neck of a bottle, but he’d left the one Wymak gave him in the hotel after he’d downed as much of the burning liquid as he could. The silence was masked by heavy organ music. The Japanese were always quiet people. Kevin didn’t really expect Tetsuji to say anything, especially nothing kind about the boy he spent 20 years ridiculing. 

The grass below Kevin’s feet swayed back as forth as he neared the casket. His lead feet continued to move, thanks to the gentle pressure of Wymack’s hand on his back. If he thought about it too much, Kevin could feel himself swaying, too. But he kept moving forward. He knew how to do that much from his years at Edgar Allen. 

With one person in front of him, his heart began its climb into his throat. He fixed his eyes to the back of their head, but a quick movement left an ominous looking mahogany coffin directly in his view. The Moriyama’s had chosen an open casket – of course. Likely to eliminate any chance of conspiracies that the death had been faked. With a high profile “suicide” like this, they couldn’t afford any loose ends. Despite the horror of dead bodies, Kevin knew that seeing it would make all the difference for him, because deep down, he still couldn’t quite believe Riko was actually dead. 

Kevin took a hesitant step forward, darting his eyes to the safest part of the casket – the feet. His eyes traveled up the freshly presses dress pants. He could feel that Wymack had stood back, giving him the space he needed to say goodbye. As if this was a sufficient goodbye to someone as complicatedly important to him as Riko. Kevin faltered as his eyes reached the trail of neatly fastened buttons, but he swallowed down his overactive heart before glancing farther up. The contrast of his pale skin was striking against the black velvet of the casket. It made him seem paler than usual, as if every drop of blood had been drained from him. He’s dead, Kevin reminded himself. Of course, he didn’t have any blood left. 

The blood in Kevin’s own face drained out of him when he registered the dark black number in the corner of Riko’s closed eye. One. Kevin felt himself lurching forward, feeling the rush of bile climbing up his throat. He turned away, breaking into a jog to get as far away as possible. He only made it a couple feet from the casket, right into a group of bushes. Kevin was vomiting, hands resting on the tops of his knees like they sometimes did when he was winded from running extra sprints at practice. He coughed and coughed, trying to convince himself that the warm, salty tears dripping from his face were from the gagging. 

Kevin could see nothing but Riko’s piercing, dark eyes behind his own eyelids. He saw jealousy flaring in them, like the night Riko smashed Kevin’s hand to pieces, and then the unbridled rage he’d seen only a few days ago at the Championship game. Those eyes had been haunting him vaguely for years, acutely for the last 18 months, and unbearably for the past 72 hours. Kevin didn’t know if there would ever be a day where he didn’t see those eyes in his mind, but god, he hoped. 

When there was nothing but saliva being spat into the ground, Kevin straightened up. He made eye contact with a groundskeeper a few yards away and winced, hoping they could see the guilt on his face. He stepped backwards and twisted around, nearly jumping out of skin when he realized a person standing behind him. 

“Jesus Christ,” he huffed, clutching at his chest dramatically. He could feel the pounding of his heart through his skin. 

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Thea explained evenly. 

“Too late,” Kevin muttered, hanging his head to avoid her pensive gaze. 

He could feel Thea step closer to him. He stilled as her hand came up under his chin, tipping it up so he was looking in her eyes. He stared at her as she mapped out his face, knowing enough not to mention the glassiness of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and crushed him into her. Kevin was too tired to resist. He buried his face in the place where her neck met her shoulder and he allowed his hands to fist in the fabric of her shirt. Thea’s finger tips trailed up and down his spine and he struggle to match his anxious breathing to her steady pace. The scuff of footsteps eventually made her pull away. 

“You ready to head back, kid?” 

Kevin looked at Wymack, dressed in a suit Kevin had never seen. His hands were stuffed deeply into his pocket and he had an unreadable expression on his face. Kevin knew Wymack saw the panic rising in him, so he just nodded. Thea held onto his upper arm in a way that was unfamiliar and the three of them took off in the direction of the parking lot. Kevin felt the flashes of cameras as they walked past a line of press, but for the first time he didn’t put on his media face. He just kept his eyes down, avoiding any questions. Thea’s biting replies and Wymack’s gruff denials did the speaking for him. 

When they got to the car, Wymack disappeared in the driver’s seat to start it up. Kevin and Thea lingered by the passenger door. Thea’s car was a few spaces over. She’d be leaving for Texas immediately. Kevin continued looking down, so he wouldn’t have to look into her eyes and say goodbye to her, too. 

“Kev,” she sighed. She ruffled a hand through his hair and it reminded him of the way his mom used to do the same. “Pick up the phone when I call, okay?”

He knew that was her way of reassuring him that they’d keep in touch this time. They were working on the complicated relationship between them and without Riko or the Nest hanging over them, they were free to explore this uncharted territory. The idea had excited him a few days ago, but he didn’t think freedom was something he could feel right now with the tightness in his chest and the anxiety weight on his shoulders like sand bags. 

“Okay.”

Thea gave him a tight smile and a squeeze of the hand before she stepped away. Kevin opened the door and got inside the car. He didn’t want to watch her walk away.


	3. You can't wake up, this is not a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin tries to regain some semblance normality while he processes his feelings.

Kevin stared ahead, studying the faded wallpaper to avoid looking at Wymack as he scanned the newspaper in silence. The only sounds in the room were the faint bubbling of leftover coffee in the pot and the scrape of Kevin’s fork as he picked at the eggs Wymack made them. When they’d gotten back from West Virginia last night, Kevin had been dead on his feet. He was too exhausted to argue when Wymack drove directly to his apartment instead of dropping Kevin at the Fox Tower. They didn’t exchange words as they traveled up the elevator and through the front door. Kevin was used to silence with Wymack. If he hadn’t been so drained, he might have had it in him to be offended that Wymack – his father – didn’t have more to say, but he quickly realized there were no words to say. 

Riko had been dead for only a few days. Kevin kept waiting for the suffocating grief to wear off, to break into something more manageable like anxiety or anger, but it never did. It dulled under the numbness that periodically spread through him, but it never dissipated. Images of Riko burned behind his eyes whether he was asleep or awake. 

“I’ve got some paper work to go over.”

Kevin jerked his head in Wymack’s direction, startled by the sudden announcement. He stilled the movement of his fork. 

Wymack raised his eyebrows slightly, folding his newspaper and setting it to the side.

“I was going to spend a couple hours down at the stadium. If you want to come.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Kevin agreed hastily, pushing his chair back from the table. “I’m ready.” 

He brought his dishes to the sink and he could hear Wymack behind him doing the same. Kevin stretched out his tight back as he entered the living room. The worn hem of his tee shirt rode up against his waist and he shivered. He dug around his bag for one of his team sweatshirts. By the time he’d pulled the hoodie over his head, Wymack had returned to the living room to find his car keys. Kevin stared at him, absentmindedly ruffling his hair, until Wymack turned to face him, car keys dangling in his hand. 

“Let’s go.”

The Foxhole Court smelled the same as it always did, like worn leather couches, lemon scented cleaning supplies, and the faint yet distinct odor of sweaty gear. It looked the same as it always did, with Dan’s pictures hung up all along the walls and obnoxious orange accents in every line of sight. Kevin closed his eyes briefly before opening them again. He took in his surroundings once more. Nothing had changed, not even the stack of papers on the entertainment console. For the past year, Kevin had been calling this stadium home. From day one, he’d found solace in it, despite detesting all the bright orange and the faces of his new teammates even more. Today, despite its learned familiarity, even it could not soothe the gnawing unease in his stomach. Kevin itched to step on the court. He knew that at least would quiet his busy mind. 

The rest of his teammates were taking their academic finals, so Kevin knew he would have the court to himself today. He might have welcomed the distraction of exam week, but it was for the best that he’d been allowed to email in all of his final papers from his hotel room in West Virginia. Kevin was lucky he’d had the foresight to finish them before their game at Edgar Allen because he wasn’t in the right mindset to focus on the semester any longer. These past few days, Kevin felt like he could barely keep his feet moving, but with every piece of gear he put on, he could feel his muscles relaxing ever so slightly. 

Kevin stepped onto the court, balancing a bucket of balls in one hand and his racket and a stack of cones in the other. He set up the hardest Raven drills he knew and allowed his senses to focus exclusively on the game. The thudding of the balls against the bright cones. The intricate pattern of his footsteps across the court. The ripple of strength through his shoulder as he slammed the ball into the goal. After a while, all Kevin could hear was the thrum of his pulse his eardrums. 

The more his muscles burned, the more energy Kevin felt coursing through his body. He marked time with flashes of red and the amount of times he paused to recollect the scattered balls. He was blind to anything but the goal in front of him, which is why it took him so long to notice Wymack was watching him. A pounding against the glass finally caught his attention. 

Kevin walked over to the entrance of the court and unlocked the door. Neither of them spoke for a moment and Kevin tried to hide his discomfort at Wymack’s contemplative gaze. 

“I probably should update your roster information. I take it you’re not going to be switching back to your right hand anytime soon.”   
Wymack glanced at the racket in Kevin’s left hand. 

“I don’t know, Coach. I think it would benefit our team to have an ambidextrous striker on the line. Teams won’t have any idea which way to mark me.” 

“I see,” Wymack considered. “I’ll take that into consideration when I’m,” he paused, “we’re drafting up strategy for next season.”   
Kevin nodded, breaking eye contact in a way he hoped looked casual and not panicked. Kevin was always involved, invited or not, in strategic decisions, based on merit alone, but the look Wymack was sending him made Kevin think this offer was different. He still had a hard time discerning which conversations he was having with his coach and which he was having with his father. 

“Go shower and I’ll bring you back to Fox Tower,” Wymack prompted.


	4. There are no absolutes in life, only vodka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kevin copes with his grief the only way he knows how: Exy and vodka.

When Kevin got back to his dorm, the room was quiet. Empty. Kevin toed off his shoes carefully and turned towards the kitchen. There was a lone bottle of Absolut on the counter, likely an offering from Andrew, and Kevin swiped it as he stalked towards the bathroom. When the lock clicked behind him, he sighed heavily. He weighed the bottle in his hands for a while before twisting the cap open and taking a long pull.

Kevin continued to drink from the bottle as his vision became hazier. He heard the door open a few times and recognized the muffled voices of his roommates, but didn’t make any move to leave. He held his breath every time the footsteps came too close but no one knocked on the door. 

Hours later when the noise had settled into thick silence, Kevin tipped his head back to catch the last drops of alcohol on his tongue. He slumped backwards, groaning at the pounding in his head when he smacked the wall behind him. After a bit of contemplation, Kevin attempted to pull himself upright, tightening his fingers around the edge of the sink for leverage. When he stood, his blurry reflection greeted him in the mirror, but instead of green staring back at him, he saw familiar black - simmering with cruelty. Kevin shook his head, worsening his dizziness, and stumbled out of the bathroom as quickly as possible. He slipped through the bedroom door, careful not to wake anyone, and collapsed into his bottom bunk, still dressed in his clothes from the court. 

The next morning when Kevin woke, the room was empty again. He whined mildly at the light streaming into the room and then at the dry state of his mouth. The clock on Andrew’s desk said that it was almost 1 PM. Kevin groaned as he push himself to sit up in bed. His knees protested as he stood, sore from either the court or being cramped on the bathroom floor all night. Kevin shuffled into the kitchen and downed two glasses of water. He felt like he was on auto-pilot as he rummaged through the cabinet for Nicky’s extra liquor. Kevin filled a glass with vodka and gulped it down in one go, hoping to take the edge off his impending hangover. After stuffing a handful of protein bars into his bag, he left in search of the court. 

When Kevin got to the court, he dumped his bag on a bench in the locker room and headed for the showers. Hot water rained down on his tense muscles and Kevin exhaled slowly. He washed the layers of sweat and booze off his skin, rubbing until he looked raw. Kevin’s mind flashed to the site of Jean’s wrist, worn down from pulling at restraints and reddened like the blood trickling from the corners of his mouth where he’d been struck. Kevin retched at the memory, feet stepping just out of the way as he vomited over the drain. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pressed his head against the cool tiles. The cold felt vaguely like the flat blade of a knife flush against his cheek. Kevin’s skin itched. He sunk down to the ground, pulling one of his long limbs close to his chest and resting his chin against the flat bone. When the water ran cold, Kevin stood up – shivering – to turn off the faucet and find a towel. 

By the time he made his way onto the court – hair still dripping – he saw new drills had already been assembled. Kevin ignored the thickness in his throat, knowing Wymack had set them up for him, in hopes of focusing his attention away from the events of the past several days. Kevin geared up with steady hands and focused his full mind and strength on the cones in front of him. And if Kevin went home later that night to down the rest of Nicky’s bottle, well – no one had said anything to him. 

The next few days passed in a similar fashion. Kevin pushed his body hard – as if hoping his mind would be unable to catch up to him. He felt a comfortable buzz in his head from the alcohol and chased the feeling whenever it began to fade. The relief it brought was too sweet to give up and Kevin hadn’t even felt guilty when he smuggled half a liter into his water bottle before leaving for the court. 

The lines on the floor swayed, but Kevin tried to ignore the fact that he was throwing more misses than hits. He focused his attention on Raven drills next, knowing each so intrinsically that he thought he could do them dead. He’d had each step beaten into him and each angle ripped out of him, whether by cane, knife, water, or a punch. Kevin could feel the phantom pain - in his back, his knees, his hand - when he thought hard about these drills. When he’d taught them to Neil, it felt like blasphemy, but he was glad to have someone else around to do them with. A partner, just like old times. He found himself feeling grateful at the time that he wasn’t receiving beatings for Neil’s rookie mistakes. He’d gone to bed after those sessions feeling like he was gagging on water anyway. 

When Kevin could hardly stand from the burn in his legs and the heaviness of his intoxicated limbs, he stuffed his things into his bag and started walking back. He was dead weight on his feet – only the thought of dreamless sleep propelling him back to the dorm. The cool air outside to keep him alert long enough to navigate the abandoned streets. 

Kevin walked into his dorm, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead, and was nearly startled out of his skin by a crash against the wall a foot from his face. Kevin’s head snapped to the source of the noise and found a shattered Grey Goose bottle in pieces next to his feet. He looked up, panic filling him when he saw all of the monsters in the living room. Kevin fixated immediately on Andrew’s calculating expression, ignoring the furious looking Neil in his peripheral. 

“What the-”

Andrew was interrupting before Kevin could finish. “What is that?” he asked, looking pointedly at the glass on the floor. 

Kevin swallowed hard. He thought he’d hidden that bottle under the bed before leaving for the court. 

“You have 5 seconds to answer me before I…”

“Forget it,” Neil sneered. “It’s the fourth bottle we’ve found this week. Empty. I haven’t seen you sober for a single minute since you gotten back from West Virginia.”  
Kevin looked away, avoiding Neil’s eyes. 

“Coach told us to have patience with you, but seriously, Kevin, it’s been a week. He’s dead. You won. That tattoo on your face means nothing when you’re drinking yourself into oblivion the second that abusive piece of garbage is gone. After everything he did to you - to us - you’re mourning him? Fuck you,” Neil spat. “And fuck Riko.”

Kevin flinched back from Neil’s words – hard – but his body felt too slow, like he was running through water or swimming through sand. Kevin could hear only the blood rushing through his ear drums. He almost wanted to shake his head, dislodge whatever object was clearly causing this strange deafness, but the ugly look on Neil’s face was paralyzing him. 

He could see the veins popping out of Neil’s neck and noticed the hostility in his gestures. Still, he couldn’t make out a single word, not since he’d said his name. 

Kevin watched Nicky fussing nervously, half trying to calm Neil and half glaring at Kevin for being the cause of the outburst. Aaron was on the other side of him and it looked like he had a lot to say to Kevin as well. Based on the nodding Aaron was doing, Kevin got the impression that he might actually be agreeing with Neil. It was all too much to process.  
Kevin wanted to be sick, but he focused his attention on the only safe thing in the room: Andrew, leaning against the back wall of the living room and looking as uninterested as always. The familiarity of his expression grounded him until a forceful shove finally broke through his fog. Kevin stumbled back, eyes snapping in Neil’s direction. He was right up in Kevin’s face, despite being almost a foot shorter than him. 

“Are you even fucking listening to me?” 

There was no way for Kevin to answer his question even if he wanted to because it felt like someone had suddenly stab one of Andrew’s knives straight into his lungs. He felt like he was drowning – being water boarded – and he just shook his head. His whole body felt too heavy, too slow, and Kevin wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or some weird haze his grief has constructed around him. 

“I can’t, I’m sorry,” he slurred, shuffling backwards and turning to the exit. 

When he started for the door, Kevin saw the upperclassmen had gathered in the doorway to see what all the yelling was about. He noticed Dan first, with a stern look of displeasure that verged on anger he’d never seen. He avoided most of the other faces, but noticed Renee’s expression was full of pity when he pushed his way through them to get into the hallway. He didn’t know if anyone called his name to stop him, but he continued stumbling through the hall and out of the building with only the desire to escape driving him. It wasn’t until he was half way to Wymack’s place that he realized where his body was taking him. 

Kevin rapped on Wymack’s door with trembling hands and he tried not to think about the last time he’d done this – come running to Wymack when the world felt like it was crushing him. Moments later, Wymack was opening the door and Kevin was falling into him without his mind having decided to take a single step. Wymack dragged him towards the couch and sat the two of them down. Kevin’s hands were knotted in Wymack’s shirt and he didn’t let go until Wymack was pulling away. He reached for a box of tissues on the coffee table and Kevin touched his face dumbly, surprised by the wet tear tracks he found. He hadn’t realized he’d been crying but he didn’t have time to be embarrassed before Wymack was pulling him into an unexpected embrace and rubbing circles into his back like his mother used to.


End file.
